


This Is How It Is

by CallMeHux



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Modern AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-15
Updated: 2016-05-22
Packaged: 2018-06-08 12:18:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,179
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6854362
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CallMeHux/pseuds/CallMeHux
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Murphy asks Clarke to decorate the nursery for his impending baby.  Bellamy seems to have an issue with it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> All mistakes are my own. This little ficlet came to me out out of left field and I wrote it in the hopes that I can now focus on some of the longer fics I'm writing.

Clarke settled into the diner booth seat, looking over the options for pancakes. Ever since Murphy had asked her to meet at Nyko's, she'd been craving one of the breakfast specials that made the place famous. She had narrowed her choices to the All-American, with blueberries, strawberries and whipped cream, and the traditional Apple Dutch Baby, when her lunch companion finally made his appearance.

He slid into the booth with a grunt, giving Clarke a curt nod. Before Clarke could say hello, the waiter appeared.

"Hello, sir. Can I get you something to drink while you look over the menu?"

"Coffee, black, the clam pancakes, side of bacon," Murphy rattled off.

"Ew, clam pancakes?" Clarke protested, looking at the menu to see if that was really a thing. It was.

"They're surprisingly good," the waiter offered. 

"I'll take your word for it," Clarke replied with a smile. "I'll take the All-American, thanks."

The waiter nodded and hurried off.

"So, do I get to know why you wanted to have lunch?" Clarke asked Murphy, cutting right to the chase, knowing he wasn't one for chit-chat. Although they were part of the same friend group, and had been for years, she couldn't remember the last time she spent any time with him alone. If it had ever happened before.

Murphy snorted as he began to doctor the coffee the waiter delivered to the table, dumping in what had to have been a few tablespoons sugar. "Yeah, I have a favor to ask."

"Okay," Clarke answered with a slow nod, having a feeling that she knew what this was about. "Ask away." 

"I was wondering if you'd paint the baby's room for us. As a surprise for Emori. You know, like with figures and stuff." Murphy seemed almost embarrassed by the request.

She grinned, pleased to know she'd guessed right. Of all their friends, no one had expected that Murphy would be the first to have a kid, especially not once he'd gotten together with Emori, who seemed a perfect match for his Murphy-ness. Neither of them exactly screamed "parental material" but when they had gotten pregnant accidentally, to the group's surprise, they had decided to keep it. And they were incredibly mature about the whole thing: they moved in together, had a birthing plan and a maternity schedule already worked out, found a daycare and a pediatrician, and in all, acted like two adults. 

It was really awesome. She was honestly thrilled for them.

"Yeah, I could definitely do that. I was trying to decide what to do for her baby shower anyway, so this is kind of perfect," Clarke enthused. "It's a great idea. Any particular figures in mind, or should I just come up with something on my own?"

"I was thinking of mythological creatures? You know, dragons, pegasus, things like that. Or a phoenix. That'd be cool," he described. "I have zero artistic talent, but since you make a living at it, I figure it shouldn't be too difficult for you." Again, he shrugged. 

"No, no. I like it." Clarke pulled a sketchbook out of her bag and quickly outlined a few figures. "Something sort of like this? Or do you want me to like, illustrate a particular story?"

They spent about ten minutes talking about different ideas before their food arrived. During the pause while they were arranging the plates, Clarke thought of a wrinkle.

"Wait, how is this going to be a surprise? I mean, you guys live together."

"Right before the baby shower, she's going to visit her brother and stay for about a week." Murphy cut into his clam pancake. "That's enough time, right?"

"Yeah, it should be," Clarke readily agreed. She bit into her own pancakes with a happy hum. "Murphy, this is a really good idea."

"I'm full of great ideas." He pointed at her with one of the strips of bacon before taking a bite out of it. "You guys just don't listen to them usually." She laughed in response.

For the rest of the day, her head was full of potential designs for the baby's room. She spent the afternoon doodling in her notebook, instead of working on her actually commissioned project for one of her mother's friends. When she got home that evening, she tossed her bag on the couch and wandered into the kitchen, bursting to tell her roommate the news.

As expected, Bellamy was there, but he wasn't cooking. Instead, he was hunched over his laptop at the kitchen table, typing madly. He bore all the trademarks of a day of intense work - his glasses were sliding down his nose, his hair was in disarray, and he was still wearing his pajamas. There were dirty dishes next to him as well as a half-full cup of tea.

"So, what do you want to order for dinner?" Clarke asked as she pulled open the drawer where they kept the menus.

"Ordered already. Should be here in ten," Bellamy answered distractedly. 

"Okay. Should I still be talking to you or are you really getting a lot done on your thesis?" She didn't want to bother him if he was being particularly productive. 

Bellamy blinked at her owlishly. "Uh."

Clarke tilted her head, a suspicion forming in her mind. "You're working on your thesis, right?" she asked, already walking over to check.

"Totally," Bellamy responded, trying to hide the screen from her. But she'd already glimpsed the telltale layout.

"Oh my god. Have you been on Tumblr all day?" she asked around her enormous grin.

"I-" He coughed, flushing with embarrassment. "This guy's wrong, okay? He's just wrong. The textual evidence clearly supports the theory that-"

"Bellamy, I really don't want to hear about your Game of Thrones theories." Clarke hadn't read the books and lost interest in the show halfway through season four. Plus, there was definitely no way she was going to encourage him down this particular rabbit hole.

"A Song of Fire and Ice," he corrected. "We're arguing the books, not the show." 

"Okay Mr. Pedantic. Step away from the computer."

"If I don't reply, he's going to think he's won the argument," Bellamy huffed, already starting to type again.

"Hasn't he already won by distracting you all day?" Clarke suggested, pulling a couple of beers from the fridge. "Come on, food'll be here soon and I have news and you could probably use a shower." She shook the bottles invitingly. 

Bellamy looked at her and then his screen and back again. Finally, he bit out, "Fine." Still, he typed out something else before he shut the computer and closed his eyes.

"I can't fucking believe I spent my whole day on this."

Clarke absolutely could, since Bellamy was incredibly easy to wind up, but she just opened the bottles and offered one to him. He slid out of his chair and took it from her, giving her a rueful smile of thanks as he leaned against the counter.

"As much as I'm dying to tease you about this, you probably could've used a day to just goof off," she replied as she hopped onto onto the counter herself and then took a long pull of her beer. He'd been working full throttle for a few weeks now, only leaving the apartment for work, to get food, or his weekly dinner with his sister.

He scrubbed at his face. "Yeah, maybe. It's just…" He took a sip of his beer. "Last night, I was dreaming I was writing my thesis. When I woke up, I could've sworn what I was remembering was a memory, not a dream, and I freaked out a little when the pages I knew I had written weren't there." He huffed, clearly still annoyed with himself. "I wasted like, two hours, trying to find out how I'd lost the pages, or if I'd written them somewhere else, and when I finally figured it out, I just…" He flailed an arm.

"Oh, Bell," Clarke began, about to reach over and give him a hug when a knock sounded at the door. "Here, pull out some plates and I'll get the food," she directed, getting to her feet.

Once they were back at the kitchen table with the Thai food he'd ordered, they spend some time serving themselves and chatting about nothing at all. As always, it was effortless to spend a meal with him. It had become effortless to do everything with him.

It hadn't always been that way. They'd been antagonistic towards each other at first, Bellamy thinking that his sister's college roommate was a bad influence and an enabler of her relationship with Lincoln, the guy eight years her elder she'd begun seeing. And while Clarke freely admitted to being that enabler, she vehemently pointed out he was being overprotective of a woman he'd help raise to know her own damned mind. And while they'd declared a truce fairly early on, they hadn't gotten friendly until a couple of years later.

By the time Clarke realized she might have some not-so-friendly feelings for him, the first guy since Finn to spark her interest, he'd been with Roma, a girl in his program. And then she'd fallen for Lexa in a whirlwind courtship that almost had her quitting college to follow her girlfriend to her internship in London. By the time Clarke had come up for air and been ready to date again, Bellamy was no longer available, dating a woman named Echo. And then Clarke was with Niylah by the time he was single, and when that fizzled, he'd already started dating Gina, a friend of Raven's.

And it had been serious. Extremely serious; he'd moved in with her and made a real effort to include Gina in their friend group. It was as close to 'meet the parents' as Bellamy could get. So when Lexa called her up, she'd fallen right back into her arms. 

Both relationships had ended in disaster. Everything that she and Lexa had loved about each other had been exactly the reasons why they couldn't be together long-term. She never got the exact story about what happened with Gina, but a week after she and Lexa had called it quits for good, Bellamy had suddenly been scrambling around to find a place to live. She'd offered him the spare bedroom at her place and he'd been living here ever since.

For a year, they'd folded their lives together. Clarke adamantly refused to charge him rent, so he'd deemed himself in charge of food. He paid for all the groceries and made sure she ate more than just yogurt and takeout. Somehow, their laundry had become commingled, so that each of them had been washing the other's underwear. They spend Tuesday nights watching her CW shows and spent Wednesday nights watching his documentaries. He packed her lunches to take to work at the gallery and she always picked up his favorite danishes from the bakery that was nearby for the weekend.

She knew she was in love with him, probably had been for years, but only realized it about two months ago when he'd nursed Jasper through a broken heart. He was hip-deep in his thesis work but had taken the time to help their friend go through his first major break-up because that's what he did. He put others before himself. 

She'd been sitting on the knowledge ever since. Because he was hip-deep in his thesis. She didn't want to spring this on him when he was so busy. Or worse, have him think that he needed to reciprocate because he lived in her apartment. She'd talk to him about it after his thesis was done and he'd successfully defended.

Maybe when they were really drunk at the inevitable celebration party. So if went horribly wrong, she could blame the booze.

He clearing away the last of the takeout cartons when he asked, "Hey, what was that news you wanted to share with me?"

Clarke blinked as she tossed the empty bottles into the recycling bin. "Oh! Murphy wants me to paint the baby's room for him with mythological beasts. Isn't that a great idea? He was thinking just having some of the cooler beasts in there in a general sort of mural, but I thought it might be better to actually illustrate one of the better myths. I told him I'd ask if there was something really appropriate for a baby's room, you know, not one of the rapey ones."

When she turned to gauge his response, she found him gaping at her. "He what?" is all he could seem to manage.

"He wants me to paint a myth on the walls of the baby's room as a surprise for Emori for her shower?" Clarke repeated uncertainly. "I thought you'd be thrilled. It's an excuse to talk about a bunch of myths."

"Uh...yeah. I'll, uh, have to think about that one. You know, they're not really for babies," he stammered in reply, looking around himself like he lost something. When he spotted his laptop, he grabbed it. "Um, I'm going to at least try to get some work done in my room for the rest of the night." He was gone before she could even form a reply.

For the next few weeks, every time she tried to bring up the subject with Bellamy, he found a reason to leave the room. They were all perfectly legitimate reasons - working on his thesis, having to move the laundry from the washer to the dryer, needing to return a phone call to his advisor - but she knew he was avoiding the topic. She debated confronting him on it, but decided picking a fight over something so trivial right now, when he was so stressed out, wasn't worth it.

Which is how she found herself at Murphy and Emori's apartment on a Monday night, penciling in the design. She'd gone with the Twelve Labors of Hercules, since it had the Nemean Lion, the Hydra and Cerberus, all in one myth. Murphy had picked up extra shifts at the bar he worked at that week, so she was alone in the apartment when she heard the front door open and close.

"Did you forget something?" she called out, not looking away from her work.

She was startled a moment later by Bellamy's gravelly voice. "Clarke."

Whirling, she found him standing in the doorway, hair a mess and wearing a pained expression.

"Oh my god, Bell, what's wrong?" she asked, putting down her pencil and hurrying over to him. "Is it O? Did something happen?"

"You can't paint this mural, Clarke."

She had just been reaching out to comfort him when she froze. This was about the baby's mural? She folded her arms in front of her. "Uh, why the hell not?" she asked, annoyed. "You know, I asked you for your input on this for weeks. You can't come here in the eleventh hour, after I've already designed the thing and start offering suggestions."

"No, you can't paint any…" Bellamy took a steadying breath. "I don't want you to paint this for Murphy's baby."

"Again, why the hell not?" Clarke could not have been more annoyed. She only had a week to get this done and it wasn't like she could miss work to paint this.

"Because I want you to paint something like this for our baby, not Murphy's!" Bellamy practically shouted at her. She would have been pissed except for how absolutely wrecked he sounded. 

And also, that he had thought about them having a baby.

She felt her cheeks grow hot and her heart hammered heavily in her chest. "What?" 

He ran his fingers through his hair, looking exasperated and nervous and resolute all at once. "Look, you said it, this is basically my thing. And your last name is Griffin, so I always thought, you know, one day, when we have kids, you'd paint this awesome nursery with a huge griffin, but also the other great mythological beasts, like a dragon and a pegasus and Cerberus, and the whole nine yards."

"We're...having kids?" Clarke asked, struck by his vehemence.

Bellamy colored and took another breath. "Clarke, I'm so in love with you, and I have been for years, probably. I know this is horrible timing, because you're not really over Lexa. I know what she meant to you and that you haven't dated anyone since then, but I was hoping that maybe, you know, in the future, when you were ready, that you'd consider me. I'm sorry that I'm saying it like this, but I can't picture you doing something like this for someone else. It's driving me nuts."

She couldn't contain the laughter that burst out of her. "Oh my god, you're such an idiot," she told him, doubling over. 

He backed up, face clouding over. "Oh, well, I guess, I mean, if you don't...you think it's worst idea.."

"I haven't," she began, forcefully, before he could dig himself into another hole. "Dated since Lexa because I'm in love with you, dumbass," she told him, straightening up and giving him a wide grin. "I just can't believe your declaration came because of a stupid mural!"

He froze. "You love me?" he asked, apparently focusing on the most important words, for once.

She nodded sagely. "Yes. And you love me."

"Yes," he answered, grinning back at her. 

"I also can't believe we aren't making out right now."

"I can totally fix that," he told her as he closed the distance between them, cupped her face in his hand and leaned down to kiss her.

Murphy found them several hours later, making out again, in the corner of the nursery. "Hey! Stop defiling my kid's room," he glowered. "Go feel each other up in your own place."

Clarke sat up, pushing Bellamy off of her and gave Murphy a sheepish smile. A glance at her boyfriend told her that he had the same look on his face. "Sorry," she said. "We just...had a moment. Uh, how married are you to the idea of mythological creatures?"

In the end, John Murphy the Third's, or Trip's, nursery was decorated with famous movie monsters, including Godzilla, King Kong and a pretty excellent looking Ghidorah. Bellamy even found a three-headed dragon hand puppet, which was part of his baby shower gift to Emori. 

And, a few years later, Ismene Blake's nursery featured a rather large, spectacular griffin.


	2. Bellamy POV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> By request, and because it was very stuck in my head. All mistakes my own.

Basically, they were married. 

Bellamy had been living with Clarke for about a year, ever since Gina had announced they were over with a sharp line, "I don't love you enough to overcome the fact that you don't love me enough." 

He'd spent weeks trying to parse out that statement, silently turning it over his mind as he packed up his belongings from her apartment and taken them to Clarke's, the only one of his friends with a spare room who could take him in on a moment's notice. He chewed over it when he balked at the poor quality of Clarke's daily diet, taking it upon himself to get some actual food in her. He considered it when Clarke finally convinced him to stop looking for another place to live since he'd never find a better deal.

But he had only _known_ what it meant when she curled into his side for their Tuesday night of pasta and CW shows the following fall. 

"Ugh, I am literally pregnant with this fettuccine, Bell," she complained happily. "Could you just stop cooking so well?"

"I didn't tell you to eat three helpings. I'm going to have to make you a sandwich for lunch tomorrow instead of leftovers," he informed her, looping an arm over her shoulders. 

"I'm going to get fat," she warned, tuning to the proper channel.

"Well, only if you carry to term," he quipped, earning a poke in his side.

When her phone buzzed halfway through the first show, she huffed. "Everyone knows not to bug me during my shows," she grumbled.

He smiled as she checked her phone anyway, then asked, "Do we have plans for the seventeenth?"

He thought about it briefly. "Nope."

She pulled a face. "Can we make plans? 'Cause otherwise I have to think of a reason to ditch girls' night out without seeming like I'm ditching."

"Why would you want to ditch?"

"Raven invited Gina." Clarke had loyally refused to hang out with his ex since their break-up.

He chuckled, then pressed an absent-minded kiss to the top of her head. "Go. It doesn't bother me."

"You sure?"

"Yeah. She's not a bad person; she's just not for me." As soon as he said it, and glanced down at Clarke's upturned face, he knew exactly what Gina had meant.

He was in love with Clarke. And Gina didn't love him enough to stay with him regardless of that fact.

He had moved from a committed, serious relationship with a smart, kind, funny person to having a shared schedule with Clarke, living in her home, taking care of her and allow her to take care of him, in a single week. And not once had it felt weird, or too fast, or too intimate.

But now he was saddled with knowledge that he couldn't share with Clarke. The final breakup with Lexa had taken a huge toll on her. He'd spent everyday with her immediately following the meltdown, so he knew how much pain it had caused. The distraction of his breakup with Gina and his moving in was just that, a distraction, and until she was really over her, he couldn't reveal his own feelings. He wanted an honest shot with her, not something that would be confused with her last relationship.

He'd struggled with the knowledge for a couple days, but came to realize that the reason he could so easily imagine a life with Clarke was because he was already living that life with Clarke. 

Except for the sex. 

And if every fat guy, skinny wife sitcom could be believed, that was pretty typical of marriage too.

So it easy to add a few, fantastical details to his life with Clarke while he waited for her heart to heal completely. To imagine that her friendly backrubs might turn into something more. To being her date to her mother's wedding and to ponder getting married in the arboretum just out of town that she liked so much. To hear about Murphy and Emori, of all people, having children, and immediately think of his own with Clarke. 

From what he understood about genetics - admittedly, not much - he thought it likely they'd have his dark hair, but he could hope for her blue eyes. They could paint the room he was in now yellow, a nice, happy color for a nursery, and he'd cajole her into painting a giant griffin on the wall, to look over their little one in the night. Maybe add the Pegasus, and Cerebus, too. 

He practically had the whole nursery planned out when Clarke told him about Murphy's request. He couldn't even think of a response to her request for a myth to paint without feeling a flood of possessive anger. He immediately rushed away, muttering something about the thesis he'd been neglecting all day, only to text Murphy. 

_Why mythological beasts?_

**John Murphy:** _Because they're cool as fuck._

_Most people go for zoo animals._

**John Murphy:** _Do we fucking look like most people?_

_Why not something like spaceships?_

**John Murphy:** _Fuck off. My idea's great._

He knew better than press the issue with Murphy, who would just obstinately dig in his heels. But he couldn't help the way he felt. It wasn't just that he was the one getting his doctorate in Classics. It was that Clarke's last name was actually Griffin.

She, of all people, should have a damned griffin on the wall of her child's nursery.

That he was, in fact, getting his doctorate in classical history was really just the universe telling him he was meant for Clarke, that's all.

So, for a few weeks, he hoped that Murphy would just change his mind, or that Clarke would get too busy with a commission to do it. But then came a Monday when she didn't appear for dinner and he belatedly realized that she was supposed to start work on the mural that evening. He ran out the door of the apartment with nothing approaching a real plan.

He'd spent an inordinate amount of time imagining his life with Clarke by his side.

He never imagined that his carefully imagined proclamation of love would be a jumbled, half-out-of-breath ramble. 

He never imagined their first kiss would be in Murphy's would-be nursery.

He never imagined she'd agree to name their first daughter Ismene.

But, as he stood in front of the giant griffin on his daughter's room's yellow walls, painted by his very pregnant wife, who had asked his opinion of the final product, he could only say, "This is exactly how I imagined it."

**Author's Note:**

> All comments are welcome.


End file.
